


I'm Not Stalking You

by 3rdgenderfromthesun



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Derek Needs Therapy, Dubious Consent, Gaslighting, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Unable to Consent, Unrequited Lust
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-16
Packaged: 2019-01-18 05:01:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12381420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdgenderfromthesun/pseuds/3rdgenderfromthesun
Summary: In which Derek is stalking Stiles, just waiting for him to be legal, but refuses to admit it even when faced with photographic evidence.





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles wasn’t just excited about his nineteenth birthday. He was _ecstatic._ He’d done his due diligence to alleviate any discomfort Derek might feel: Stiles had dated both men and women and lost his virginity. He’d even put his whole heart into it. Malia could have been someone he’d loved, but it hadn’t panned out. Lydia he’d truly expected to be the one to make him move on from his schoolboy crush of Derek, but as it turned out Lydia was the schoolboy crush instead. He’d been sad to let that one go, but it only strengthened his resolve. He hadn’t met any men who had really made him throb like Derek had, so a month before his birthday he’d asked Danny for a mutual hand job just for the experience and the young man had been amicable. They’d shared a stolen beer afterwards and things hadn’t been awkward. Stiles had succeeded. He’d well and truly established himself as an experienced young man by the time he hit legal age _and_ he’d waited an extra year so college and living alone could add a bit of maturity to him. All that was left was to confront Derek about the werewolf’s UST and fall into his arms like a damsel. Hell, he’d already been carried around while injured so it wasn’t as if he had much pride to sacrifice by being the one to go all wobbly-kneed, and Derek _definitely_ made his knees quake. Besides, it was more than past time for Derek to be happy, and Stiles was ready to commit to him and give him what all the past women couldn’t.

Stiles was visiting his dad on college break, but he’d come home a day early so he could go visit Derek in his loft and have a word with the sourwolf. Derek was, as usual, pretending not to be glad to see him. He opened the door, sighed, and let Stiles in without so much as a backwards glance. Stiles was nervous as hell, but one look at the beta’s shapely ass had him finding his courage. Stiles smothered a grin when Derek checked him out right back… in the reflection off of one of the windows of his loft. Derek’s eyes smoldered whenever he thought Stiles wasn’t noticing the glances he threw his way. It was how Stiles had first figured out that Derek’s interest in him wasn’t just platonic. At first Stiles had been freaked out. An older man taking an interest in him? No thank you! However as time went on and Derek was _painfully_ careful not to interfere in any of Stiles’ relationships, all while protecting him and still being respectful of his inexperience and age, Stiles had decided that what Derek felt for him was real. With that understanding it hadn’t been hard to fall for the moody werewolf. They had shared pain, and more than once Stiles had turned from his mother’s grave to find Derek carefully watching him from the shadows. The ‘wolf would nod and they wouldn’t speak. Some things were too painful to talk out and they had that shared pain to long-distance bond over.

Derek also had blood on his hands like Stiles had; and there was something to that level of remorse and acceptance of guilt that lead him to understand that Derek needed to be loved. He didn’t just want a teenage fang-fan. He wanted a relationship, and for Stiles to be that for him he couldn’t come into it with the immaturity of his age. In fact, so sure was Stiles that Derek needed a mature companion that he’d almost put off their discussion until he was done college, but Derek kept falling into unhealthy relationships and Stiles was concerned that if the beta didn’t embrace him he’d end up dead. So Stiles had moved up his time tables and was ready to give the werewolf what he needed.

“Hey, so,” Stiles started, clearing his throat anxiously, “So I wanted to talk to you about something.”

“Okay, so talk,” Derek replied, pulling a soda out of his fridge and putting it on the counter for Stiles.

Stiles hurried forward and opened it to give himself something to do with his hands. He slid onto the bar stool and put his elbows on the bar, starting to shred the paper on the label. Derek opened his own soda and sipped it slowly, watching Stiles patiently. His eyes lingered on Stiles’ lips and neck before focusing on his chest. He could probably hear the younger man’s rapid heartbeat.

“I’m, uh,” Stiles cleared his throat again, “I’m nineteen as of two days ago.”

Derek snorted, “Congratulations.”

“Thanks. So. Um. You know… it’s legal now.”

“I’m not an idiot, Stiles. I know you can’t drink till 21, and even if you could I’m not letting you near wolfsbane liquor. It might be a great buzz for humans, but it will blow out your liver. Especially if you end up taking after your dad.”

Stiles blinked in confusion, and then favored him with a frustrated glare, “I’m not asking for liquor, dumbass. I’m asking you out!”

“Out?” Derek asked, waving his soda to ask for clarification.

“On a _date_ ,” Stiles emphasized, making sure his voice told Derek exactly what he thought of his distraction tactics.

“Oh,” Derek blinked in apparent surprise that Stiles had taken the first steps, “Wow. Uh. No thanks, Stiles.”

“What?” Stiles gaped, dropping the soda.

The drink rolled onto the floor and started to empty audibly. Fizzing and ‘glub glub’ seemed odd sound effects for Stiles’ flailing brain.

“I’m sorry, you’re not my type. I’m not even into guys. Thanks anyway. I’m… uh… flattered,” Derek replied, and then turned to get a mop out of the corner of the room, “Here. Clean that up.”

Stiles ignored the mop, “Dude, you don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Pretend what?” Derek asked, cheeks a bit red from embarrassment.

“That you’re not into me,” Stiles stated, “I noticed you staring _years_ ago. It was a bit weird at the time, but it’s legal now, so you can stop pretending.”

“I wasn’t staring,” Derek replied, giving Stiles an uncomfortable look and taking a small step back, “Stiles, there was _no_ staring. That’s disgusting. You were a _kid_. You’re still a kid compared to me.”

“There was _all_ the staring!” Stiles snapped angrily, standing up and nearly slipping in the soda, “Dude, you follow me around! You watch my ass!”

“I’m protecting you. You’re fragile and important to our alpha-“

“LITERALLY watch my ass!” Stiles shouted angrily, “Stop playing games, Derek! I’m old enough to have a serious relationship, I’ve been off to college and experimented, I’m not innocent anymore. I’ve even got _two_ long-term relationships under my belt!”

Derek smothered a laugh, “You think a few months with Malia and a few with Lydia are ‘long term’ relationships?”

“And how’s your track record going?” Stiles snapped without thinking.

Derek’s eyes narrowed and he leaned the mop against the counter. Stiles swore inwardly, but before he could apologize Derek stepped over the soda and shoved him towards the door.

“Get out,” Derek snapped.

“Look, I’m sor-“

“I’m not attracted to scrawny _little boys_ ,” Derek snarled, “And no matter how old or experienced you get, I’m not going to want you, Stiles. Do you know why?”

“An unhealthy belief that you don’t deserve happiness?” Stiles sassed as Derek herded him towards the door.

“Because you’re annoying and I can’t stand five minutes of your company,” Derek snapped, “So even if you somehow grew tits and a pussy I’d _still_ tell you no. I tried to be nice, but you’re an asshole through and through so here’s me responding in kind: Go fuck yourself.”

X

Stiles wasn’t ashamed to admit he cried. Well, okay, he was. He punched his steering wheel and then drove away and held it in until he was far enough away that Derek wouldn’t hear him start to sob brokenly. For two years he’d been under the _actual_ impression that Derek loved him. Not just wanted him, but _loved_ him. He’d been absolutely sure of that fact. He’d seen the werewolf’s protective side come out enough to be sure that he cared, and when Derek repeatedly turned to _Stiles_ while injured… well, it just made sense. Who would you go to when hurt as a big, tough werewolf with trust issues if not your _mate?_ Stiles had ended his relationship with Lydia with the firm idea that he wasn’t just going to _date_ Derek, he was going to spend the rest of his life with him. He’d even come out to his dad already and informed him that he was in a relationship with Derek. He’d been _so fucking sure_ that he hadn’t felt the least bit like he was lying when he’d stated that they were already together. Now he had to go home with his tail tucked between his legs and admit it had all been one sided.

Or cry and eat chips and ice cream.

Probably the latter.

X

Derek felt bad about how he’d turned Stiles away. Sure, the guy had zero brain-to-mouth filters, but Derek was admittedly used to that. He was a spaz with no idea how to shut the hell up. Still, Derek was the adult. He should have handled himself better and explained to Stiles carefully and gently that a relationship wasn’t going to happen. Maybe he could have let him down with an explanation that Derek wasn’t interested in him physically- sort of lean towards that aromantic stuff he’d heard Scott talking about from his college sexuality class. He could have left the kid with a shred of self-esteem left. Maybe even an ego boost that would send him off into an actual _healthy_ relationship. Maybe back to Lydia- where he arguably belonged- since it seemed like he’d ended _that_ relationship to pointlessly pursue Derek.

“I’m the asshole,” Derek decided with a heavy sigh.

X

Months passed but Stiles couldn’t put it together in his head. Nothing about Derek’s rejection made sense. He spent some time going through the evidence he’d laid out and it all added up to a serious relationship. The only explanation he had was that Derek thought _Stiles_ still wasn’t ready, and like the self-hating wolf he was he’d done his damndest to chase him off instead of accepting him. Stiles would have to talk him through his man pain.

The holidays meant another trip back to Beacon Hills and the pack always tried to meet up to spend some time together. Sometimes it involved briefing each other on the latest threat that had shown up on their door. Scott was attending college at home so he could guard his territory and Malia had remained with him. The rest came when called if possible, but with Derek back in Beacon Hills and their pack growing it hadn’t been necessary for Stiles and Lydia to remain nearby.

They met in Derek’s flat as usual since it was the largest space, and each chipped in for pizza. Derek provided sodas and lurked in the corner. Peter showed up, which was always awkward, but he wandered off halfway through. Scott had turned a young woman who had been diagnosed with cancer and she was introduced to their pack as Tanya. Stiles liked her instantly. She was shy but funny and he spent a good part of the night laughing with her.

Finally the meeting came to an end close to one in the morning and Stiles helped everyone clean up. Scott apparently wanted to head home to game despite the fact they’d regret it the next morning, but Stiles needed to talk to Derek and told his friend so. Scott left with a pout and Stiles laughed at him and shut the door behind him. He turned to find Derek twisting a dishtowel in his hands and looking guilty. Stiles smiled fondly. Perhaps he _wouldn’t_ have to get the sourwolf to listen to him after all.

“I wanted to apologize,” Derek stated quickly, apparently expecting to have to cut Stiles off. He didn’t have to. Stiles could see his usually stoically silent packmate was searching for words and he wasn’t about to interrupt him. Derek looked surprised at that but Stiles just sat down on the couch and waited with a small smile of encouragement.

“It’s okay,” Stiles replied, “I get it.”

“You do?” Derek asked, looking instantly relieved, “That’s… good. I thought you were going to throw yourself at me again.”

Stiles snorted, “I didn’t throw myself at you _last_ time. If I had, you’d know it. Wait, is that what you’re waiting for?”

“What? No!” Derek spat out.

“Because for real, I came here with this photo album,” Stiles pulled it out of his bag, “Ready to show you proof that you’re denying a shit-ton of emotions and stuff, but I am _totally_ game for-”

“Stiles, I’m _really_ not into you!” Derek cut him off.

Stiles went still, “Okay, back to plan A then.”

“No,” Derek insisted, “No plan A! No plan anything! This isn’t happening! Go after Tanya! Go back to Lydia! Hell, go jerk Danny off again!”

“Ha! I knew you were following me that night!”

“Because you were acting weird! Because you’re _still_ acting weird!” Derek insisted in frustration.

“Derek,” Stiles stated firmly, “In this book I have no less than fifty-eight photos of you staring at me. Not just looking. _Staring_. You’re borderline stalking me. There’s no ‘Stiles, it’s not love’ bullshit. If it were just sexual you’d have fapped it out years ago, and I don’t think you’re a pedophile. In fact, I think that discomfort over my age is what’s been holding you back. So here’s the deal: you haven’t adversely effected me, Derek.”

“What?” Derek sputtered.

“You haven’t. Yes, I knew you were attracted to me-“

“Which I’m not,” Derek cut in.

“-But I still had sincere attempts at relationships with other people, and you did _nothing_ to dissuade or harm that. So you have nothing to feel guilty about regarding me. You didn’t mess up my love map. You were just the end game, that’s all, and even I wasn’t aware of that until recently. I was ready to test out other options, but not anymore. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I’m ready to love you, and I’m ready to commit to you. No more sleeping around, no more threats from crazy-ass girlfriends. You and me, buddy. We’re going for the happily ever after here, and you do _not_ have to be ashamed of that. I’ll handle things with Scott and my dad. They’ll see it my way. My dad already knows! He thinks it’s new and I’ll let him think that. Our history is between us and this book.”

Stiles smiled warmly, waiting for Derek’s epiphany. He looked… horrified. A bit frightened, actually.

“You okay?” Stiles asked.

“Stiles, listen to yourself! You’ve invented an entire romance that _hasn’t happened,_ ” Derek spat out, “You’re out of your mind!”

“What? No!” Stiles stood up and flipped the book open to a random page. It didn’t matter which one he ended up on. At least one picture on every one had Derek ogling him on it, “Look! This is our pack photo album. I’ve been keeping it for all of us, like a record keeper, you know? Look at your face. Look!”

Derek glanced down at a picture of himself watching Stiles with unconcealed hunger. Stiles’ back was to Derek. Lydia had probably taken the photo and messaged it to Stiles.

“I’m probably thinking about kicking your ass,” Derek stated, “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“How about this one?” Stiles turned the page and located one of Derek smiling fondly at Stiles.

“I remember that one,” Derek stated, “You were talking about your dad and it was sweet. I was thinking about _family_ , Stiles. Not your dick.”

“No, that’s…” Stiles pulled the album back and started flipping through it frantically, “You can’t have an explanation for…”

“You’re _pack_ ,” Derek insisted, “I care about all of you, but not the way you want me to, Stiles. It’s not going to happen. It’s just not. I’m serious here: you need help.”

“Just look at the photos!” Stiles pleaded.

“I don’t need to,” Derek pushed the book away, “I know my own feelings, Stiles, and I’m _not in love with you._ We haven’t been low-key dating, and we’re _never_ going to date. It’s not going to happen. Ever.”

Stiles tried to blink away the tears but the second rejection in a short period of time hurt more than he’d ever imagined. He’d really expected Derek to get it at this point, but instead he was completely throwing out any chance of them being together.

“Derek, please,” Stiles pleaded, losing the battle and letting the tears fall, “This is _it_ for me. _You’re_ it for me.”

“What are you saying?” Derek asked, eyebrows furrowing.

“That we’re meant to be together!” Stiles insisted, “How the hell can you not see this!”

“Because it’s not _real_!” Derek insisted, “Stiles, you’re seriously freaking me out. I’m calling your dad.”

“What? No!” Stiles grabbed at Derek’s arm, dropping his photo album in his hurry to get the ‘wolf to stop, “You’ll make a bad impression and he already has an issue with your age!”

“I don’t _care_ if I make a bad impression,” Derek snapped, “Because I’m not going to fucking date you!”

Derek picked up his cell phone but Stiles tried to snatch it up, hoping to buy for more time. Derek jerked his hand away and scowled at him, but the door opening interrupted them. Scott was standing on the other side with a look of confusion and worry.

“Stiles, I think we should leave,” Scott stated softly.

“Just gimme a sec,” Stiles argued, trying for Derek’s phone again.

“Scott, tell me you heard all that?” Derek asked in frustration, “Help me out here!”

“I heard enough to know that… that Stiles is hurting so… yeah,” Scott replied softly, “Come on, Stiles. We’re going to go eat ice cream and watch stupid movies, okay?”

“What? No!” Stiles shook his head angrily, “I’m telling you, he’s in love with me! It’s so fucking obvious!”

“It’s not to me and Derek’s saying it’s not to him, and I figure he’d know how he felt, Stiles,” Scott replied anxiously as he stepped further into the room, “Maybe you’re hurting right now and stuff’s just not making sense. We’ll hang out a bit and you’ll talk it out with me.”

“I don’t want to talk it out with _you_ ,” Stiles insisted, trying to keep the whine out of his voice, “I need to talk this out with _Derek_!”

“I’ve said everything I’m going to,” Derek replied with an exhausted sigh, “Just leave, Stiles.”

“No,” Stiles shook his head, eyes wide as confusion and hurt made it hard to breathe, “No, Derek, please…”

Scott strode forward and took hold of Stiles’ arm, pulling him gently but firmly towards the exit. Stiles’ vision blurred as his tears spilled over. He was choking on sobs as Scott walked him down to his jeep and sat him in the passenger side. Scott got into the driver’s side and poked at Stiles until he surrendered the keys. Stiles found tissues in the glove box and blew his nose.d

“How long have you had the hots for Derek?” Scott wondered as he started the car.

He did _not_ have _the hots_ for Derek Hale. He was in fucking love with him and his entire _world_ had just come crashing down. Voicing that over the broken sobs tearing his throat apart was impossible so he settled for just shaking his head.

“Man, you’re really broken up over this,” Scott replied, “When did you start seeing him?”

Scott sounded so uneasy that Stiles knew immediately that his friend didn’t believe him. He was as convinced as Derek was that it wasn’t _real_. He shook his head again and slouched down in his seat.

“It’ll be okay, buddy,” Scott told him gently, “You’ll meet someone else. Someone better.”

Stiles shook his head again, but there was no point in arguing. Scott was in supportive buddy mode and Stiles was feeling positively sick to his stomach. He let it all wash over him and tried to find a way around Derek’s insistence that he didn’t want Stiles. The human was devastated and all he could think of was that he’d have to make himself scarce. Once Derek started missing him he’d _have_ to admit that he was in love with Stiles… or at the very least it would be less painful for Stiles if he didn’t have to see Derek while pining for him.


	2. Chapter 2

“C’mon son,” Noah insisted, practically shoving Stiles out of his bed, “Let’s go.”

“Go where?” Stiles whined.

“To the shower first, and then you’re going to put your sweaty sheets in the washer, and after that we’re going out with Melissa and Scott for lunch. I’m off today and I want to see my son. Do you… do you _have_ clothes that don’t smell like sweaty teen?”

“Stop calling me a teen, alright?” Stiles griped, staggering over to his dresser to get some unworn clothes out, “I’m an adult now.”

“Your nine _teen_ and therefore still a teen for at least a year and I’m going to milk it for all it’s worth. You’ve also been in your bed for two days straight, so explain to me again how you’re out of the moody teen phase?”

“I was working my ass off in college,” Stiles griped, still sleep drunk and trying to rub the grit out of his eyes, “I deserve some down time. Why did I take morning classes again?”

“You said something about keeping a healthy waking schedule meaning a healthy sleep schedule.”

“I am willing to admit that that was a mistake.”

“The logic of ‘early to bed, early to rise’ does not apply to college?” Noah teased.

“I don’t think it applies _anywhere_.”

“That’s the most grown-up thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Noah chuckled, “Son… I tried to invite your… boyfriend…”

“Dad!” Stiles whined, abandoning adulthood in a moment of extreme humiliation.

“He told me there was no need to get to know him better,” Noah spoke softly, “Because you two weren’t together.”

Stiles avoided his father’s gaze, “We broke up.”

“So you’re moping.”

“I’m moping,” Stiles admitted.

“Okay. So today we have pie.”

Stiles gave his dad a narrow glare, “Today _I_ have pie, because the arteries around my heart aren’t at risk.”

“Yet,” Noah stated, pointing at Stiles accusingly.

“Yet,” Stiles nodded, “I’ll have my heyday just like you did, and then I’ll be _responsible_ and _eat healthy_ , like you’re supposed to be doing.”

“You’re no fun,” Noah grumbled, turning to stomp out of the room.

“Now who’s being childish?” Stiles called after him.

X

Lunch was deliciously greasy and Stiles looked the other way when Noah stole Melissa’s fries and the traitor let him. Throughout the meal Stiles kept glancing curiously around himself and, sure enough, Derek eventually showed up. Stiles smothered a grin and watched him lurk in the shadows across the street from the diner. He was only partially visible, but Stiles would know him anywhere. He pointed out the window and Scott glanced out, but didn’t blink at Derek’s creepy behavior. Possibly the news stand was blocking his view. Stiles was used to it. He had a Derek-shaped shadow most days he was in Beacon Hills. The guy must really miss him when he was away.

Stiles decided he was done with people being oblivious to Derek’s stalking, especially the asshole calling Stiles crazy for pointing out their affection for each other. Stiles nudged his dad who let him up and promptly marched out of the diner. Once out in the sun Stiles glared across the road to find Derek had moved. Stupid werewolf speed. Stiles stared casting about to find him again while Scott hurried out after him.

“Stiles? What are you doing?” Scott asked.

“I saw Derek out here being all shady and now he’s gone,” Stiles insisted, “I told you he follows me around! Sniff him out, buddy, I wanna rub his nose in this like a naughty puppy.”

Scott frowned and sniffed the air, but he didn’t do as Stiles asked. Instead he gave Stiles an uncomfortable look and shrugged awkwardly.

“What, can’t you find him?” Stiles grabbed Scott’s arm and went to head across the road to where he’d last seen Derek, “C’mon he was-“

“Stiles, look out!” Scott pulled Stiles back violently, tearing his shirt in the process, and a truck flew passed him honking it’s horn angrily.

“Asshole!” Stiles shouted at him.

Noah was out the door and checking on Stiles in an instant and the sidewalk suddenly became a _very_ loud place. Noah wanted to know what Stiles was doing walking into traffic, Scott was frantically insisting that something was wrong with Stiles and his mother needed to do another brain scan, and Stiles was loudly proclaiming his innocence from insanity.

“EXCUSE ME!” Melissa roared, drawing everyone’s attention with her shrill voice, “Would _any_ of you like to come back inside and inform the manager we are _not_ skipping out on our bill?”

Noah sighed and headed inside but Stiles saw a leather jacket turning a corner and took off at top speed. Scott was quick on his heels and Stiles felt exalted when he caught up with Derek. He grabbed his arm and nearly dragged him to the ground as he tried to stop. He’d expected Derek to take the brunt of Stiles’ halt with his werewolf strength, but when Stiles got a look at the guy he’d tackled in the streets it… wasn’t Derek.

“The fuck, man?!” A total stranger shouted at Stiles.

“Sorry,” Stiles staggered back, still trying to catch his breath, “Wrong person. Guy owes me money. Sorry, man. You okay?”

“Yeah,” The guy gave Stiles one last glare and headed away, clearly not forgiving him but unwilling to fight it out.

“Stiles,” Scott spoke softly, not the least bit out of breath, the asshole.

“He _was_ here,” Stiles insisted, “He slunk off.”

“I think it’s time to see a doctor.”

X

 _What if this is what’s been_ really _going on? What if I’m crazy as hell and Derek really hasn’t been into me?_

Embarrassment should have been his first reaction; after all he’d humiliated himself in front of Derek and told his dad they were dating when they hadn’t been, but what Stiles felt was absolute devastation. He’d envisioned a future with Derek by his side, his strong werewolf as his constant companion. He’d seen them healing together from past pain, fighting more monsters, sparring to keep Stiles in shape as he went through his FBI training program, and long nights reading side by side in a big bed in his flat. He’d seen himself with a _future_ , and now that dream was gone. Derek was going to avoid him completely and Stiles wasn’t sure he could _go_ to FBI training if he was crazy as fuck.

Stiles had to get up and shower. If he showered and made a token effort to eat his father basically left him alone. It took a great deal of effort just to do so and sometimes he thought about it for _hours_ before he actually managed to move. If he plastered on a few smiles and talked about changing his major than his dad would look relieved and tell him to take his time. He was young. He should think through his decisions before acting. Then he asked about therapy and Stiles broke down. He didn’t know what to say to a therapist because _nothing_ felt real anymore.

_I thought I had everything figured out. I planned it all out for years and the last one was Derek-focused. I had alternate plans, sure, but none of them worked out because Derek was THE plan. THE solution. THE love of my life. Until I realized it was all a one-sided, creepy, stalker-obsession on my part. Now I’m just the crazy friend of his alpha._

“Stiles?” Scott’s voice spoke up.

Stiles rolled over and blinked blearily at Scott, “Hm?”

“Your dad says you’ve been doing nothing but gaming and sleeping for days and… whew! Dude, your room stinks,” Scott stepped into the room, “Man, _you_ stink. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles mumbled, “Just re-thinking my major. Might go in for something else. Maybe science related. How you doing?”

Scott frowned at him for a moment and Stiles smiled weakly. Scott had probably seen right through all of that but after a moment he apparently decided not to press the issue.

“There’s some sort of horse terrorizing people in the park. People are calling it the demon horse. I was about to head over to Derek’s and see if he knows what it might be. Lydia’s out of reach at the moment. You want to come with?”

“Nah, too soon, man.”

“Stiles,” Scott’s face got that scrunched up look it had been featuring lately, “Too soon for what? I mean, you two weren’t even _together_.”

Stiles blinked blearily and then pushed himself up, “I need to shower.”

“Yeah, sure, just be quick, okay? You know, lives at stake.”

“Yeah, yeah, actual problems. Got it,” Stiles sighed.

He showered quickly but thoroughly. Werewolves could tell after all, and he didn’t want Derek to know just how miserable he’d been. Maybe if he saw he’d moved on…

 _He’ll be exactly the same because it wasn’t REAL_.

Melissa had done a few brain scans to make sure his mother’s illness wasn’t at fault, but it turned out he was fine in that aspect. Whatever was going on in Stiles’ head, it wasn’t that kind of illness. This was a whole new animal. Stiles had frantically texted Derek and told him to fess up: Tell Scott that he’d been at the diner that day. Derek hadn’t responded and eventually Stiles’ texts stopped going through. Derek had _blocked_ him. Stiles was officially stalker-zoned and if his dad hadn’t been the sheriff there might have been a restraining order.

They headed for the meeting and Stiles sat there staring at his hands the whole time trying to think happy thoughts. He wasn’t sure if it was working but at the very least he didn’t seem to be distracting anyone with his ennui stink. Finally the meeting ended and Stiles stood up with Scott to head out to search for whatever it was they’d been talking about that Stiles hadn’t been listening to.

“So, you’ll take the north side of town-“ Scott told him, probably realizing that Stiles had been inside of his own head the whole time.

“Actually,” Derek cut in suddenly, “I want a word with him before we all head out.”

“I don’t think that’s such-“ Scott started.

“No,” Stiles replied firmly.

“What?” Scott asked in shock, head flying back towards Stiles so fast it looked comical.

“I just want-“ Derek started.

“No, absolutely not,” Stiles stated, “You and me? We don’t do talking anymore. No more coming to me when you’re hurt. No following me around. No more slamming me against walls and eye fucking me.”

“I _never_ did that,” Derek growled.

“And you never will,” Stiles replied miserably, still staring down at his shoes, “I got that. Fine. Whatever. Point is you don’t have anything to say to me and I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You haven’t left your house in _days_ ,” Derek insisted.

“So?” Stiles scoffed, “Why do you care?”

“You’re pack,” Derek replied.

“Stop watching my house,” Stiles replied sharply, “My dad and I can take care of ourselves.”

Stiles headed for the door while Malia asked what Stiles was going on about. Stiles heard the beginnings of an explanation involving Stiles being _literally_ crazy about Derek, but walked out before he could hear the rest. He didn’t want to know how little his pack respected him. He just wanted to curl up and cry some more, but he didn’t even have the emotions left for that. He was numb and nothing felt worth his time. All he could manage was the bare minimum required to get people to leave him the hell alone, and at the moment that didn’t involve chasing a demon horse around Beacon Hills. The residents would just have to take care of themselves for a bit. Stiles had a date with his pillow.

Stiles got home to find his dad in the kitchen with a pep talk all laid out. He smiled and nodded and agreed that he had to get motivated. His dad made a speech about a ‘clean start’, told him he’d changed the sheets while Stiles was away, and insisted that his son _not_ let himself get to the point of sleeping in misery and filth again. Stiles agreed and went up to his room to collapse face first into his bed. He was asleep within seconds.

Stiles woke up to soft hands turning him onto his side. Someone took his shoes off and urged him to remove his jeans. Stiles grumbled but obeyed. He was tucked into bed and his dad stroked his hair gently before whispering that in the morning Stiles was going to see the doctor: no arguments. Stiles wouldn’t argue. He didn’t want to upset his dad any more than he had, which was why he hadn’t done anything drastic.

Yet.

It was early in the morning when another person sat on the edge of his bed. A hand stroked his hair again, but the touch was so different from his dad that he turned over in surprise and fumbled for his phone. The display lit up and Stiles came face to face with Derek’s gorgeous, sculpted face. He was smiling softly, but when the phone slipped back into sleep mode a few seconds later Stiles was still frozen in shock in the dark.

“Is this real?” Stiles whispered.

“Yeah, it’s real,” Derek replied softly.

“Why are you _here_?”

Derek let out a long, slow breath, “Because I finally looked at the photo album.”

Stiles scoffed inwardly. His psyche wasn’t even trying. Derek _had_ looked at the album, and it hadn’t moved him an inch. This was another hallucination. More imagined romance that Stiles would never have because he was crazier than his mother had been.

Still…

What was the harm in indulging in the fantasy?

Stiles reached out and found Derek’s rough face, stroking his sharp cheeks and wanted to curl up in his lap. He moved to do just that and the man let out a heavy breath as he pulled Stiles close.

“I thought you’d tell me off or something,” Derek whispered as Stiles wrapped himself all around the man he loved.

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Stiles whispered back, “Just hold me?”

Derek shifted to lay with Stiles on his bed. Stiles’ legs had to shift about and they ended up with their legs intertwined on the bed as they lay together. Derek’s hand cupped the back of Stiles’ head and he nuzzled into the man’s neck to breathe in his familiar scent; woods and leather, spicy deodorant and that unique scent that was all Derek Hale, werewolf and angst machine.

“I was so blind,” Derek told him, “I’m so sorry, Stiles.”

“Shh,” Stiles scolded, “Cuddles.”

Derek petted Stiles gently, stroking along his back as Stiles rested his head on a thickly muscled arm. He drifted back to sleep with his heart aching with false happiness. When he woke up in the morning he was alone and his dad made good on scheduling him to see a doctor. However, the therapist his father had reached had a waiting list for a week or so, so his father decided a trip to the hospital was in order. Stiles sat there and listened as Melissa explained that if Stiles wasn’t suicidal or a harm to himself or others they really _did_ have to wait. Scott showed up and after his dad finished snarling about not getting his way the four of them went out to eat. Scott asked Stiles if he’d ended up talking to Derek after the meeting, but Stiles just shook his head and changed the subject. Apparently they’d caught the horse-demon-thingy and put it down. It had been mourning it’s mate’s death and gone mad with sorrow. Apparently Pegasus mated for life.

Poor Pegasus.

Poor Stiles.

Poor stupid Derek who would be alone forever because he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Namely an insane Stiles who really didn’t deserve someone like Derek anyway.

 


	3. Chapter 3

Every morning brought reality and an empty bed and Stiles let himself mourn all over again, sobbing brokenly until his dad showed up with his chores for the day. Stiles dressed slowly, ate a bagel when it was pressed on him despite his lack of appetite, and sat through his therapy sessions in virtual silence. He once told her he’d been dumped and everyone was telling him he hadn’t even dated the guy, but while he hadn’t _physically_ dated him, they had had a relationship. The therapist looked sympathetic. Eventually she filled in the silence with psychobabble and Stiles nodded without listening until their hour was over. He told his father he felt better but went straight back to bed when he got home.

‘Derek’ was back each night that is father was away, simply appearing in Stiles’ bedroom the way he had throughout high school. Each time they held each other, spoke softly, sometimes nuzzled gently, but in time their touch grew more needy.

Stiles contentedly slid into his waking dream and they kissed slowly for the first time. It was just as rough and exciting as Stiles had imagined, but then again it was all in his head so of _course_ it was identical. Stiles moaned against Derek’s lips and his hands burned a trail down Stiles’ back to grasp his ass tightly with both big, strong hands. Stiles keened, his cock thickening fast as Derek’s touch drove him wild with lust.

Derek’s hands moved lower and he pulled Stiles’ thighs up onto his hips. The human eagerly wrapped his legs around the ‘wolf’s waist and stroked both hands up from Derek’s scruffy face into his hair where he buried his fingers with a greedy hum of approval. Derek’s hair was thick and smelled of pine and fall leaves. Stiles broke the kiss just to breathe in his scent.

Derek laughed, “Are you sniffing me? Fuck, that’s hot.”

“Yeah?” Stiles growled, “You like me being your little puppy?”

Stiles gave Derek’s ear a nip and he straight up growled, hips jerking violently against Stiles’ own. For several minutes they were both lost to lips, teeth, and tongue as they kissed with the hunger that Stiles had been missing in previous relationships. He wondered briefly if Derek ever felt this breathtaking surge of lust with his lovers, but he wasn’t about to start a conversation mid dry-hump. Derek broke their tongue duel to move down to Stiles neck and- _oh fuck yes!-_ it was far better than he could have ever imagined. Derek’s stubble raked across his sensitive skin and lit every nerve on fire. Stiles’ hips were helplessly jerking up against Derek’s firm body in search of friction as every soothing stroke of his tongue against roughened flesh made Stiles cry out in excitement.

“You’re so fucking lucky my dad’s at work,” Stiles panted, working his hands downward so he could grope Derek’s perfect bod.

Derek snorted, probably because he wouldn’t be ravaging Stiles if they weren’t alone in the house, but he didn’t bother to vocalize it. Stiles didn’t need him to. He knew Derek well enough to know what the stoic man was thinking. They’d been friends for years, after all. It only felt natural that they would fall into bed together.

“Fucking love you,” Stiles keened as Derek nipped his collar bone, “Leave marks. I want to see them tomorrow.”

Derek chuckled and began to suck at his neck firmly. Stiles groaned and wriggled frantically.

“Could you, like, lie down on me properly?!” Stiles wailed, “I need some fucking friction on my dick!”

Derek laughed as he broke the seal on Stiles’ neck to lift his head and smile down at him. He lay down across Stiles’ body fully and Stiles groaned as their bodies began to move in sync. Stiles gasped and writhed, swearing as the touch went from too little to too much.

“Oh my gods! Lose the fucking jeans! Why do you hurt me?!”

“Did I really?” Derek pushed up, frowning down at his crotch.

“No, but I’m gonna hurt _you_!” Stiles raged, tackling the button on his jeans.

Derek chortled, “You make me laugh.”

“I deal with pain with comedy, you should try it sometime. It makes a _lot_ more sense than chilling out in burned out buildings and making cryptic statements to angsty teenagers.”

“Oh, yeah, because that worked out so badly for you,” Derek growled as Stiles tugged his jeans down his thighs.

“I’d mock you for being smug, but you have _so much_ to be proud of,” Stiles purred as he groped his crotch through his underwear, “I want the D from D.”

“You’re an idiot,” Derek informed him.

“An idiot who’s about to get _laid_ ,” Stiles groaned, pulling ineffectively at his shoulders to get Derek back on top of him again.

“It’s adorable how you try to manhandle me,” Derek laughed.

“Shut up and pretend I’m strong,” Stiles growled.

Derek pretended to topple down on him and Stiles laughed a bit as he wrapped himself around the werewolf like an octopus. He latched his mouth onto Derek’s neck to start biting and suckling even though he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave a mark. Derek groaned as their boxer covered cocks ground together. The fabric heated up teasingly and Stiles scratched at Derek’s back to get another animalistic reaction from him. He wasn’t disappointed. Derek growled, shoved up, and shredded both their boxers viciously.

“I’m going to fuck you until your eyes cross,” Derek growled.

“Promises, promises,” Stiles growled back.

Stiles reached down to touch the part of Derek he was craving and hesitated. Derek’s looked a bit different from his own cock but it took a moment before he placed it the difference. Derek was uncircumsized. Apparently the werewolf had also realized the difference and was frowning down at Stiles in confusion.

“I think you use a firmer grip with mine and I use a lighter one with yours,” Stiles decided, “Because you have more nerve endings.”

“You first,” Derek decided, giving Stiles’ dick a worried frown, “You’ve at least done this before.”

Stiles bravely wrapped a hand around Derek’s shaft and slid his hand down and then back up. His eyes widened as some of his skin slid up high enough to cover the red tip of his dick. Derek’s eyes fell shut and he moaned appreciatively.

“Okay so… just… firmer than I did,” Stiles suggested, “And don’t try to move the skin. It’s not going anywhere.”

Derek gripped Stiles’ cock in his hand and stroked it firmly, rendering Stiles completely wordless, especially when he thumbed the tip of his sensitive length.

“That’s better,” Derek growled, sniffing the air curiously. He reached into Stiles’ beside drawer and pulled out some lubricant with a wicked leer, “I hope you like assplay because I just figured out I swing both ways five nights ago so I’m not ready to try it yet.”

“Yet?!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek leaned forward and licked up his ear before whispering, “Keep your promise to love me forever and I’ll let you do _anything_ to my body you want.”

“Fuuuuuck,” Stiles moaned, “You… you gotta stop or I’m gonna fucking come.”

Derek released Stiles’ dick and the eager human flailed about in an attempt to roll over and present his ass like the bitch he wanted to be for one scruffy Hale. He managed it without the slightest bit of grace, even managing to kick Derek in the face, but once he had his ass in the air and his face in his pillow Derek’s response was worth his awkwardness. Derek let out a low moan and ran one hand over Stiles’ ass almost worshipfully while Stiles shivered in desire.

“You’re gorgeous,” Derek breathed, “Fuck, Stiles. If I had to fall for a man it was going to be one with your mind and personality, but the body sure as hell makes this easier.”

“Yeah, thank god I love pastries,” Stiles gave his own ass a sharp slap and Derek barked out a laugh.

The ‘wolf poured out some lube onto his hand and dipped his fingers into the puddle. He stroked Stiles’ entrance gently for a moment with one finger before slowly pressing inwards. Stiles had a moment of concern, but he figured if he wasn’t clean enough Derek’s nose would have told him first. Derek’s finger slid in with surprising ease, but then Stiles had used his own fingers on himself before so his muscles weren’t shy. He let out a slow breath when Derek worked a second in and his eyes bugged out when Derek spread his digits to stretch him further.

“Have… have you done this before?” Stiles asked hesitantly.

“With a woman,” Derek replied, “It can’t be much different. Am I hurting you?”

“S’weird, but I’m good,” Stiles replied honestly.

Derek worked him open a bit longer, locating Stiles’ prostate and making him shiver with longing. When Stiles moaned deeply Derek went still in surprise and made an attempt to get the same reaction. Stiles swore and pushed back hungrily and Derek let out a few choice words of his own. The werewolf used the remaining lube to slick himself up and slipped his fingers free to line up with Stiles’ body.

“I’m going to mount you, Stiles,” Derek growled, his voice deep with desire.

“Mm, take me,” Stiles breathed, “Claim me.”

Derek groaned as the soft head of his cock pressed against the first ring of Stiles’ entrance. For a moment Stiles was focused on breathing out, baring down, taking all of him in. He lost track of his surroundings in the moment as Derek slid into his body. He didn’t hesitate to continue to push even past Stiles’ initial discomfort. He thought about stopping him, but since the entire event was in his head he wouldn’t be feeling it tomorrow. Might as well go for the gold. Thankfully Derek wasn’t cruel and Stiles felt his pain ebbing away as the werewolf used his abilities to ease the way. Derek’s long, thick shaft finally filled him completely and the werewolf became still as he panted against Stile’s neck.

“So fucking tight, Stiles!”

“Well, yeah,” The human sassed, “I didn’t let Danny do _everything_. Had to save a first for you.”

“Fuck!” Derek grunted.

His werewolf began to move, hips shifting back before slamming home with an eager thrust. Stiles shifted his own hips, both to meet him and to find that spot that made him see stars again. Stiles was lost to pleasure the second he and Derek got the angle right. Lights danced behind his eyelids and he felt himself barreling towards completion. He wasn’t sure he could come untouched like in a porno, but he was damn close to it. Derek was a vicious beast behind him, snarling and growling hungrily as he pounded into Stiles’ body. He swore and chanted his human’s name and Stiles could feel him losing rhythm.

“Stiles,” Derek gasped, “Fucking come already!”

“Oh, are you close or something?” Stiles teased even as he reached for his dick with an eager hand, “Are you sure you don’t want to go for longer than a min-“

“I will _kill_ you!” Derek roared.

Stiles groaned, both because his grip on his dick was making his eyes roll back in his head in bliss and because Derek’s voice was sex personified. He loved the powerful werewolf and came moaning his name. Stiles’ come painted the bedspread as he shook through a truly mind-blowing climax. Derek went still behind him and for a moment Stiles thought his fantasy had come to an end without him getting to experience _Derek’s_ orgasm, but then the werewolf let out a slow, low moan and shuddered behind him. His dick pulsed in Stiles’ ass and the human’s eyes flew open so he could look over his shoulder and see Derek’s expression as he filled Stiles with his seed. Derek’s lips were parted in awe, his eyes closed, and a look of such relief graced his features that Stiles’ heart stuttered in his chest.

_I did that. I gave him so much pleasure he actually relaxed for a change._

“Damn, Stiles,” Derek breathed, leaning back and sliding out of Stiles’ body.

“Oh, weird!” Stiles announced, and his body followed that up with it’s own announcement.

Stiles laughed at the noises he was making and promptly bolted for the bathroom. When he returned after cleaning up a bit he found Derek sitting on the bed looking tired and content. He gave Stiles an amused glance and slid his eyes down his body.

“You alright?” Derek asked casually.

“I’m fine,” Stiles yawned, “Just _really_ tired. Coming always makes me sleepy, does it make you sleepy?”

“Yeah,” Derek yawned, “Do you want me to stay?”

“Mmm, forever.”


	4. Chapter 4

As was quickly becoming the norm, morning brought Stiles crashing back to reality. Derek wasn’t there and he was experiencing intense hallucinations. Apparently they’d gone so far as to be psychosomatic because Stiles’ ass _hurt_. He even bled a tiny bit when he had his morning poo, and that wasn’t the norm for him. It freaked him out a bit, but the depression he was suffering through was such that he didn’t have the energy to care for more than a moment. He shrugged it off and climbed into the shower, but after his shower he decided he deserved a nice soak in the tub. He wanted to pamper himself. Stiles got a few of his mom’s old scented candles down burned the dust off just for fun, placed them around the tub, and lit them to give himself some ambiance. He put his phone in a plastic sandwich bag, added some shower gel to the water, and had himself a nice bubble bath.

Stiles’ dad walked in about twenty minutes later and Stiles blinked up from where he’d been googling sex disorders involving imaginary people. He’d stumbled across a guy who was so sex obsessed he’d decided that picking your nose was a type of masturbation because it served as a replacement for the genitals. Stiles was just starting to think that he wasn’t _quite_ as crazy as all that- while admitting that pulling out a large nugget really _was_ satisfying- when his father had interrupted his thought process.

“Well!” His dad chirped as he pissed into the toilet, “I’m glad to see you finally taking care of yourself!”

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles replied, “Had some pretty awful dreams last night. Decided I needed a bubble bath. You know, but a manly one because Old Spice body wash.”

“Of course,” His dad replied, zipping up and washing his hands without looking over, “I’ll be working again tonight. You’ll be okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles replied, “I was thinking of asking Scott over.”

His father nodded absently, “That’s a good idea. Therapy today?”

Stiles checked his phone because he literally didn’t know what day it was, “Tomorrow.”

“Okay. You’ll go?”

“Yeah, I’ll go,” Stiles sighed.

“It’s not like when you were little. When you were a kid the doctor would tell me what was going on, but now she tells me that it’s confidential.”

Stiles gave him a weak smile, “I’ll tell you what’s going on. It’s fine, Dad.”

“Good,” Stiles’ dad leans over to peck a kiss on his head and then leaves without another word.

Stiles settles into the water and feels bad because he doesn’t know how to tell his father that his insanity has gotten _far,_ far worse.

X

Scott had to be called in again because Stiles skipped his therapy in order to sleep after having another Derek Ravaging Dream. In this one Derek had fucked him twice in one night. The second time hadn’t even been satisfying because Stiles had just been sore and barely turned on. He hadn’t gotten it up or come, but Derek had been so hungry for him and he had no idea when the fantasies would end, so he’d just gone with it. Afterwards Derek had sucked him off to make up for it, petting him and holding him close and telling him he needed to explain when he wasn’t up for sex. Stiles had just clutched him close and told him it was fine over and again.

When Scott showed up Stiles was tired, sore, and emotionally drained. Scott walked into the room and his jaw dropped in shock. Stiles rolled over and sighed in frustration.

“Don’t start,” Stiles snapped, “I’ll shower. I’ll clean my sheets. _Yes_ , I have clean clothes.”

Scott’s mouth opened and shut a few times in shock.

“Just…” Stiles pushed himself up, wincing at the discomfort in his backside, “Look, I know I’m unraveling here. I know, okay? It’s bad and I need help, but I can’t talk to that doctor! It’s impossible! How do I tell a _lady_ doctor that I’m hallucinating a dude rodgering me until I can barely walk?!”

“Hallucinating?” Scott squeaked.

“Yeah, I know, right? And the worst part is I’m having these psychosomatic reactions where I feel pain afterwards. Like, I think I’m actually going to tell Imaginary Derek that it’s time to work on our blow job skills or something, because my ass can’t take his pretend dick!”

“Wha…?” Scott asked in confusion.

“Yeah, you heard me. I’m hallucinating my entire sex life. I’m officially the most pathetic man on the internet. _And_ I’m an imaginary bottom who doesn’t speak up when I can’t take the D anymore. Even Imaginary Derek was like: _we don’t have to do this, Stiles._ ”

Stiles imitated his voice and then made a face in disgust, “His voice sounds better _inside_ my head.”

“Stiles!” Scott shouted, shaking his head in horror, “Stiles, you’re _not_ hallucinating!”

Stiles turned to him, halfway through picking out a new outfit, and gave him a baffled shrug, “What?”

“You’re not hallucinating! Derek has _been here_ , and by been here I mean _came_ here. A lot. Like, you stink of Derek’s cream and I want to throw up right now. Are you seriously unaware that he was _actually here_?”

Stiles shook his head, “He wasn’t. He turned me down. I imagined his attraction to me. I imagined him stalking me. You were there. You and he and _everyone_ have been telling me I’m crazy for weeks.”

“I don’t think you are anymore,” Scott worried, eyes flashing red, “And we need to talk to Derek. _Now_.”

Stiles showered with Scott anxiously guarding him as if he weren’t able to care for himself. Stiles was emotionally drained and confused. If Derek really _had_ been sneaking into his room than Stiles was in the midst of the very relationship Derek had denied. He wasn’t sure if he would have handled it the way he had if he’d been aware that Derek really _was_ there. He’d gone all in because he thought that at any moment Derek would waft away into smoke. He sure as hell wouldn’t have gone for round two the night before if he’d thought his ass was really on the line. Stiles slid a finger into his hole and felt a shiver of pain, but he wasn’t in agony. Derek had been gentle. He always was. He treated Stiles like glass. The issue was sex three times in two nights with Stiles’ basically virgin ass. Derek hadn’t failed to be tender and loving, kissing Stiles from head to toe and introducing him to his nipples in a steamy few minutes that had been toe-curling.

Stiles exited the shower with a towel around his waist and found Scott had stripped the bed and put all the wash in the washer. He was staring at it accusingly and fuming angrily as he tried to wash Derek’s scent away.

“It’s not like he raped me,” Stiles sighed.

“You thought he wasn’t really there, Stiles! It’s not normal! It’s not okay!”

“It’s not informed consent,” Stiles replied, “But I don’t think he knew I didn’t have my head on straight.”

“Would you have had sex with him if you’d realized?”

“Maybe,” Stiles shrugged, “Maybe not. I don’t know. Derek’s the only one who can answer if he knew that I wasn’t on the same page as him. Could you maybe _not_ go into this half-cocked?”

Scott growled angrily and Stiles sighed.

“Bad phrasing. Sorry. My bad. Let me handle this.”

“No,” Scott growled through a mouthful of teeth.

“Scott, you can’t kill my boyfriend. I’m still in love with him. At least let me talk to him first, okay?”

Scott was still growling and covered in hair, but he nodded and followed Stiles out the door. They took Stiles’ jeep over to Derek’s house because Scott looked angry enough to wreck his motorcycle. Stiles got out and let out a slow breath. He was honestly afraid to approach Derek at this point. Every time he’d spoken to him- that he’d been aware of- he’d gotten his heart all stomped over. His brain had spent the ride over playing out the worst-case scenarios over and again.

Scott didn’t have those reservations.

Scott slammed through the door and flew up the steps on all fours with a furious roar. Stiles took off after him as fast as his human legs could take him. When he reached Derek’s flat the door was open and Scott and Derek were in the midst of a pissing contest. That pissing contest contained blood instead of urine, so Stiles threw himself into the midst to stop them from killing each other. Neither werewolf wanted to harm the little flesh-bag so they backed off while snarling at him to leave.

“No, no, we’re talking this through,” Stiles snarled angrily, “Scott, I can’t believe I’m telling _you_ this, but _use your fucking words_. Derek, Scott says you’ve been in my room lately.”

Derek’s gave Stiles a completely baffled look and cocked his head to one side. It looked fucking ridiculous with his teeth out and face furry. Stiles would have laughed, but his gut was twisting anxiously in fear; if Derek denied that he had been in Stiles’ room, than he was either insane or a liar and a rapist.

_Or I’m even crazier than I thought and none of THIS is happening either._

“Well?” Scott demanded angrily, “What do you have to say for yourself?!”


	5. Chapter 5

Derek stood by the window and frowned, watching as Scott drove a broken and clearly unstable Stiles Stilinski away from his loft. Derek felt sick to his stomach. He’d had no idea that his packmate was not only so very, very unwell, but completely obsessed with Derek! He’d had women swoon over him, of course. Derek was aware of his attractive features, but generally speaking his personality chased them off after a while. Some women with some tragedy in their past would stay, but even they would leave when they realized that Derek wasn’t about to change. He was a cranky, bitter man, aged beyond his years due to trauma and loss. He could put on a façade of cheerfulness but he couldn’t make a life of it. Stiles knew the real Derek, but for some reason he was still infatuated after years of Derek snarking at him. True, they had had good moments as well. Times when they ate and drank together, laughed, watched movies, and shared in the post-battle euphoria that brought their little pack together. Those were just moments, but for some strange reason Stiles saw beyond them to Derek’s true self and _accepted him_.

 _Or,_ Derek thought rationally, _He’s just a fucking lunatic who thinks I’m nicer than I am. Or that he can change me._

Derek turned away and shoved the detestable photo album under his bed where he kept things he didn’t often want access to. When Stiles had had some therapy he would surrender it to the young man again, but for now he likely needed time. Time and space.

Sadly Stiles’ illness effected those around him as well because the next night he got an unexpected call from Noah Stilinski.

“Hey, Derek,” Noah started off, sounding more hesitant than usual.

“You need me at a crime scene?” Derek asked, heading for his shoes by the door.

“No, no, not a crime scene this time,” Noah replied, “I’m… well, I wanted to reach out to you and get to know you better in a not-so-professional way.”

“Jesus Christ, not you, too,” Derek groaned.

“Well, come on, now,” Noah grumbled, “You _are_ dating my son, who insists that things started _after_ he turned eighteen. That is accurate, isn’t it?”

“In more ways than you know,” Derek huffed.

“Well, we’re going to dinner in an hour with Melissa and Scott,” Noah stated, “Nothing formal, no interrogation, just family out to dinner. Stiles is pretty damn serious about you, and I’m ready to-“

“We’re not together,” Derek stated firmly, not wanting to listen to him ramble on about Stiles for much longer.

“You… what?”

“We’re not together,” Derek repeated, “So no need to get to know me better.”

Derek hung up and then swore at himself. He should have told Noah that he could come to him with cases still, but at the moment it was all so fucking anxiety inducing that he just wanted _out_. Derek sighed and tossed his phone onto the bed, deciding he needed some fresh air. He put his shoes on, pocketed his phone, and headed out for a walk.

An hour later and Derek was cursing himself, because _of course_ he wandered around their too-small town and passed the very diner Stiles and his family were eating dinner at. He didn’t recall Noah mentioning the name, but Stiles had a favorite café and Derek should have known to stay away from it. Instead he ended up standing outside of it and staring in at Stiles and fretting over how pale he was. No smile. No flailing hands. No ridiculous quips that made the rest of the party laugh. Derek felt sick. He’d shut the young man out without even giving him _a chance_ … not that it made sense to do so. Derek was straight… right? So why _had_ Stiles caught so many pictures of him staring at him?

**S: Tell Scott you were outside the café. For real, man. This is fucked up. He’s convinced I’m crazy.**

Derek shook his head. He was sure if he went through it he’d find answers for each, just as he had for the ones Stiles had shown him. There was no reason to torture himself with questions just because the smartest man he knew had decided they had an imaginary relationship.

**S: Am I crazy?**

Madness and intelligence had gone hand in hand historically, so Derek could be sure as he hurried away that Stiles’ shouts would be answered with the young man finally getting the help he needed.

**S: I’m getting therapy since you won’t confirm you were out there and no one believes me. Thanks for that.**

A few days later found Derek outside of Stiles’ home again. He couldn’t help the concern. Stiles _was_ his packmate. So he listened in from just outside of his home in the hopes of determining how bad things were. Stiles was in therapy. This was good. He was also so miserable Derek could smell his depression from the street.

**S: Are you outside my window?**

_Shit_! Derek frowned at his phone and quickly slipped away. He didn’t answer. He didn’t want Stiles to question himself unnecessarily, but he was worried if he contacted him he would feed the young man’s obsession.

**S: Of course you’re not. I’m crazy. Forgot for a minute there that I can’t trust my own eyes.**

**S: I’m sorry I’ve been weird.**

**S: I still want to be friends.**

**S: I miss you.**

**S: Shit. Sorry. I was drunk last night. I’m not being creepy, I swear.**

**S: Are you and Scott hanging out still? I don’t want you mad at Scott because of me.**

**S: At least reply. Type STOP to end your subscription to Stiles Unlimited.**

**S: Ok. Say ‘no’ and I’ll stop texting you.**

**S: Two letters. Come on. You can do it.**

**S: One? Letter? N?**

**S: I hate this. I hate all of this. I hate that I can’t stop loving you. I hate that I pictured a future I’ll never have. I hate that you can’t see it. I hate that I’m sick and miserable and I don’t know how to get better. But you know what I hate the most? I hate that you’re alone and miserable, too.**

Derek blocked him. He had to ask Isaac how to do it, but thankfully the young man didn’t ask questions so it was done and over with easily. Then yet another disaster hit Beacon Hills so the pack had to get together and discuss the best way to tackle whatever the hell it was. Derek wasn’t familiar with the scent and hadn’t seen it so they took the descriptions they’d heard to Lydia and studied the Bestiary. It revealed little so they had to scour the town. They broke it down into sections while Derek watched Stiles out of the corner of his eye. He was worried about him. He smelled so miserable and he’d missed patches while shaving as if he hadn’t really been looking in the mirror closely.

“So, you’ll take the north side of town-“ Scott told Stiles, probably realizing that Stiles had been inside of his own head the whole time.

“Actually,” Derek cut in before Stiles could beat a hasty retreat; “I want a word with him before we all head out.”

“I don’t think that’s such-“ Scott started.

“No,” Stiles replied firmly.

“What?” Scott asked in shock, head flying back towards Stiles so fast it looked comical.

“I just want-“ Derek started, but the young man shook his head while still staring down at his long, elegant fingers.

“No, absolutely not,” Stiles stated, “You and me? We don’t do talking anymore. No more coming to me when you’re hurt. No following me around. No more slamming me against walls and eye fucking me.”

“I _never_ did that,” Derek growled, flustered as his heart started pounding in his chest.

Stiles _had_ been the one he’d always gone to when he’d been hurt. It was instinctive. Something deep down told him that Stiles was the protector of the pack. Human and week, but the one who cared the most and wanted all of the pack safe. If he couldn’t go to him anymore he didn’t know what he would do, and Stiles’ _ridiculous_ obsession was standing in the way!

“And you never will,” Stiles replied miserably, still staring down at his shoes now, “I got that. Fine. Whatever. Point is you don’t have anything to say to me and I don’t have anything to say to you.”

“You haven’t left your house in _days_ ,” Derek insisted, ready to argue out that Stiles’ crush was unhealthy.

“So?” Stiles scoffed, “Why do you care?”

“You’re pack,” Derek replied honestly.

“Stop watching my house,” Stiles replied sharply, “My dad and I can take care of ourselves.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue that he wasn’t watching Stiles’ house, but Malia cut him off by asking what was going on and Stiles was practically fleeing the loft. Derek moved to go after him, but Scott stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest.

“Stiles isn’t well,” Scott explained, “He’s got this weird obsession thing with Derek going on that Derek is _totally feeding_ by lurking outside of his house.”

“I am _not_ lurking outside of his house!” Derek snapped angrily.

“Than how do you know he hasn’t left it?”

“Because he smells,” Derek replied, “And he’s miserable. And you’ve been whining about his depression.”

“I haven’t been here and I haven’t texted you. Has anyone _else_ told Derek I’ve been whining about Stiles?”

No one answered and Derek felt the color drain from his face, “It’s not what Stiles thinks. I’m not in love with him. There’s nothing between us.”

“Then you need to back the fuck off, Derek,” Scott ordered, eyes flashing red, “You’re making him _worse_. Today was a mistake. Stiles won’t be at any more meetings. You won’t go near his house. Or the café. Or _him_. Stay away from him.”

“For how long?” Derek asked, accepting the alpha’s orders.

Scott gave him an incredulous look and shook his head, “Forever. Duh.”

Scott turned away and gestured to the rest of the pack while Derek stood frozen in the spot. He felt like throwing up. He spent his unemployed days checking up on pack members, that was no secret. He’d gone to their highschool when they were there, but now he visited their jobs and homes. Beacon Hills was dangerous; like the name suggested, it was a beacon for the supernatural. He had the free time to check on the pack and their alpha had basically left him in charge while he went to college. Stiles was human and vulnerable. He needed protection!

Scott gave Derek one final glare before he left with the rest of the pack in tow. Derek took a few deep breaths while pacing his flat and trying to find a way to convince Scott that Stiles needed him. He couldn’t just _stop_ checking up on him on the nights his father wasn’t home! Especially when the brat was so depressed he wasn’t taking care of himself!

“So,” Peter’s voice jarred Derek out of his frantic thoughts and he turned in surprise to see him sitting in the shadows, “This is awkward.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Pack meeting,” Peter jestured around himself, “I’m pack.”

“You’re a creep.”

“Pot. Kettle,” Peter pointed between them, “ _This_ is an interesting read.”

Peter held up the photo album and Derek strode across the room swiftly to snatch it out of his hand. Peter just raised his eyebrows and gave him a judgmental glance.

“Believe me. I _wish_ I could unsee that. I mean, come _on_. It’s so obvious!”

“Nothing is obvious,” Derek snapped, shoving the book into the trash.

“You undressing Stiles with you eyes isn’t just obvious, it’s _obscene_.”

Derek stared at the album. He didn’t want to know. Yet he couldn’t keep ignoring it. Not if Scott was having to chase him away. Not if Peter was being pushy about it. He only got pushy when Derek was close to being happy. He was probably going to try to convince him that he was sick now.

“Well, I suppose if you’re not going to sweep up our little Cinder Eli than I guess I will.”

“What?!” Derek spun on him in outrage.

“Well, you’re not into him,” Peter shrugged with a wicked smirk on his face, “And he’s about to head home to mope over you. I think I’ll head over there to… _comfort_ him.”

“Why the hell would he ever let you near him?”

“Why?” Peter laughed wickedly, “Because I’m your uncle, of course! I look a lot like you. Smell similarly. Am just as moody and dangerous, but most importantly… I’m _available_. He’s broken hearted and whoever gets there first gets rebound sex. I _love_ rebound sex.”

Peter winked lewdly and turned away to head for the exit. Big mistake. Derek was across the room and tackling him in an instant, but Peter spun on him quickly and they were soon decimating his living room in a flurry of rage and violence. The coffee table was crushed beneath Peter’s torso. The couch was tipped onto it’s back when Derek was thrown over it and grabbed on to stop his progress through the air. A lamp was shattered into dust. They stepped apart eventually, too well matched to defeat each other but too stubborn to truly stop.

“First one to the human gets him?” Peter suggested.

“I’m not racing you to his bed!” Derek growled.

“Then I guess I’ll win,” Peter replied with a smirk.

He turned and made it to the door before the couch caught up with him. This time he was knocked unconscious and Derek was left with a few seconds to pant and let his thoughts catch up with him. The first thing he did was sniff out the album, which smelled strongly of Stiles even after it’s time away from him. He picked it up and paged through it. If he was going to go to Stiles he had to know for sure: was he going there to warn him about Peter, or claim him himself? If Peter wasn’t exaggerating than Derek had a decision to make.

Each page was just as Stiles had described. Derek smiling at Stiles tenderly. Derek giving him a frustrated, but fond glare. Derek looking at him with such longing as he leaned close to Malia while they’d been dating. Then the hurt when he’d briefly dated Lydia and Derek had been so certain they’d be together forever. He looked _broken_. Other pages showed unconcealed desire that was so blatant it was impossible to ignore. When Derek thought back on it he recalled times when he’d been jerking off to androgynous figures with moles and short hair, but he’d always added enough feminine features in to give himself plausible deniability. He’d never been with a man before, but if there was love than it made sense that lust would follow and he couldn’t ignore what he was seeing in the album. Derek felt sick seeing lust in his eyes back when Stiles was a minor, but if Stiles was to be believed than at least his attention hadn’t harmed the young man. He hadn’t been consciously grooming him for himself, just longing for him from a distance. Stiles had been aware but playing the field while Derek’s field was unconsciously widening.

_Well. That field just got developed into a single family home. Peter and Stiles are right. I want him. I want him and he wants me. Stiles sees me for who I am and still loves me. I need to get to him quickly, before he does something drastic because I was so blind!_

Peter was still out cold and Derek had _no_ doubt that he would keep up on his challenge. If he got to Stiles first he would cajole the young man into bed with him _just_ so he could rub Derek’s nose in it. Derek had to get to him first, but he’d be apologizing, not fucking the beautiful young man. He had to own what he’d done, first.

Derek ran to Stiles’ home at top speed, winded a bit despite the short distance simply because he’d put so much effort into it. If Peter had woken up after he’d left he might beat him to Stiles’ home, and that wasn’t something Derek was willing to risk. He climbed in through the human’s bedroom window and slipped up to the side of his bed. He was relieved to find that both Stiles and his bed were clean, although his jaw was still patchy. Derek reached out to touch his cheek, testing the stubble on his fingers and wondering at how short of breath he felt. It wasn’t from being winded. This was pressure on his chest from overwhelming emotions. Derek was _terrified_. He hadn’t ever felt like this about a partner and part of him wanted to climb right back out the window and go back to denying it. Stiles could hurt him. He could devastate him. Destroy him with a few words. Derek was as vulnerable with Stiles as he had been with Kate, but in a completely different way. He wanted to hide from him, but that method had already failed so he was going to force himself to face it head on. Derek sat on the edge of the bed and petted Stiles’ hair, but before he could call to him to wake him gently the young man stirred on his own. He shifted, opened his beautiful eyes, and fumbled for his phone. He hit the power button and a dim light flashed in the room. When Stiles’ eyes recognized Derek the look on his face was of such hope and longing that Derek’s heart felt as if it twisted in his chest. He’d _hurt_ him, and Derek was prepared to spend the rest of his life making that up to him. He smiled softly, automatically showing Stiles his game face for when he wanted to seduce a woman. He dropped it a second later, realizing that it was pointless when used on Stiles, but the light went off so the young man missed it.

“Is this real?”


	6. Chapter 6

“You don’t remember what we did?” Derek asked.

“Oh, I remember. I remember and my _ass_ remembers. The question is, did you know I was convinced it wasn’t real? That I thought I was hallucinating?”

Derek looked sick to his stomach as he shook his head in horror, “No. Fuck, no, Stiles. I would never… I couldn’t… Fucking hell, Stiles! I thought we were okay! I never, ever would have touched you!”

Stiles glanced over at Scott, “Lie?”

“No,” Scott shook his head, looking relieved but still concerned.

“I’ve completely destroyed your trust in me,” Derek spoke softly, “And here I thought I’d just gotten it _back_. How the hell do we move past this, Stiles?”

Stiles’ heart ached. Derek was completely sincere, his eyes and voice pleading as he held out a hand to Stiles. Stiles moved to take it but Scott grabbed his arm and dragged him backwards.

“Stiles! Think about this! He didn’t know, fine. I can believe that, but that doesn’t explain the rejection, accusations against your sanity, and the-“

“I was deluding myself,” Derek stated quickly, “I see that now.”

“You claimed you were _straight_ ,” Stiles reminded him.

“Obviously that isn’t true,” Derek replied, “When I first showed up at your house I wasn’t sure if I could be with you… physically. I was hoping you would be satisfied with a romantic relationship that was platonic. I didn’t know if you’d accept it, but I was hoping you would give it a chance. Then you excited me beyond _belief_. I can live without sex, Stiles. I can, but I don’t want you stressed around me. Will you even be able to let me touch you again after I basically raped you?”

“Are you kidding?” Stiles gestured at Derek’s body, “ _Look_ at you. I totally want to have all the sex with you. Like. _Daily_. Specifically over that couch. Against that wall. Showers _sound_ sexy, but are they really? I feel like that’s one of those porn lies that-“

“Stiles!” Scott called his attention back to their discussion, “I’m still trying to figure out how Derek went from stalking you unconsciously to being madly in love with you. I’m not sure this is _healthy_.”

“You mean… him?” Stiles pointed to Derek who frowned deeply.

“Yeah, him,” Scott insisted, “He made you question your own sanity! The sex thing is… okay, it’s not okay and it’s weird, but if you can deal with it than that’s whatever, but he really fucking hurt you, Stiles. Then he goes from ‘no way in hell’ to wanting to marry you? That’s fucked. _He’s_ the one who needs therapy!”

“Really Scott? Revenge?” Stiles sassed, “That’s childish.”

Scott looked bewildered and flustered but Derek was nodding his head.

“If you want me to talk to a therapist I will. Maybe we can go to yours? Together?”

“Yeah, sure,” Stiles agreed eagerly.

“And in the mean time, no sex,” Derek decided, “We’ll wait until we’re both-“

“Yeah, no, fuck that,” Stiles replied sharply.

“Stiles,” Scott hissed, “What if this time _he_ can’t consent?!”

“Then we’re… even?” Stiles asked slowly.

Scott gave him the offended and scolding look that deserved and Stiles sighed, “I don’t think it’s like that, Scott. Derek, tell him it’s not like that!”

“I’ve got some shit in my past, but I’ve had sex and it’s not traumatic to me. I can consent, Scott. I’m just… reeling. I realized that I was in love with Stiles this _entire time_ , just hiding it from myself out of shame due to his age. This seems sudden to you, but it’s not.”

“All because of some book you read?” Scott replied in disbelief.

“Where is it?” Stiles wanted to know, “Let him see.”

Derek nodded agreement and fetched the photo album. Scott turned the first few pages in confusion, asking what he was supposed to be looking for. Then he fell silent with a confused look on his face. A few pages later he was frowning, after another two he closed the book and pushed it away.

“Derek, you _seriously_ need to cool it with the eye fucking,” Scott told him, “And maybe keep that book away from impressionable young eyes.”

“Like whose? Yours?” Stiles scoffed.

“Yeah,” Scott agreed with a grimace of disgust, “Like me.”


	7. Chapter 7

Stiles turned the pages on the album. He was about to start a new book but thought he should look back on the old one first. Two years of a _real_ relationship with Derek had built up surprisingly few memories for just the two of them. There was college, attacks from various monsters, and one break up that had left Derek broken and drunk on aconite wine for two weeks. Over all they were happy, deeply in love, and drowning in lust. Their photo album was rated PG since Derek _still_ couldn’t stop giving Stiles lust-eyes whenever he laid eyes on Stiles.

Derek had received therapy a for the first ten months of their relationship, mainly to deal with his distrust of others and relationship phobia. Stiles was glad for it when they got to the point where Derek started trying to unconsciously sabotage them. Stiles was able to call him on his shit and they worked it out, but it hadn’t been pretty. Thankfully Derek had a crutial breakthrough and Stiles didn’t give up on him.

So for their two-year anniversary Stiles was presenting him with yet another photo album along with one more gift. A ring, if he would accept it.

Derek met Stiles at the cafeteria of his college with a bouquet of curly fries, artfully arranged in a blue vase. Stiles cackled at the sight, scolded him for ruining their dinner by feeding Stiles fries first, and then led the way out to Derek’s car where the werewolf opened the door for him after pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Stiles wolfed down the fries and accepted a wipe from Derek so that he wouldn’t smudge his precious Camero. Stiles threatened to get grease everywhere and Derek growled: their typical exchange. Stiles opened the restaurant door for Derek, but stepped aside so he could give them their reservation. Derek kept a hand on Stiles’ lower back whenever they were walking, enjoying the beautiful young man’s slender frame with both eyes and gentle caresses.

Since he’d had a snack before hand he enjoyed a salad for dinner and focused on saving room for dessert. He had plans for their dessert and had called in and ordered it ahead of time. The staff had the ring he’d bought for Derek and were going to place it on the top of his favorite pie instead of the chocolate curl. They were going to bring it out the second Derek picked up the dessert menu.

When the werewolf didn’t reach for it right away Stiles got impatient and picked up his own.

“Oh, hey, babe, they have your favorite here. Raspberry with that ganache stuff!”

“Do they?” Derek asked, eyes on the kitchen door instead of on Stiles.

Stiles’ eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Oh my gods, no way,” Stiles grinned as he saw Derek frantically refocus on him, “No way, Derek. For real?”

“What?” Derek asked, cheeks going a bit red.

A plate was placed down in front of Stiles. His favorite malt milkshake- something the restaurant they were at did _not_ carry- with a ring dangling from the large red straw right beside half a strawberry and a pile of whipped cream. Stiles’ eyes blurred with tears as he reached in and plucked the ring up. He laughed lightly and licked the whipped cream off as Derek stared down at his pie and the ring on top.

“Derek gave it a shocked look and then smiled fondly up at Stiles, “You, too?”

“Me, too,” Stiles laughed, sniffling a bit, “So which of us gets down on one knee and makes a scene?”

“I think that would be you,” Derek decided, picking up his ring and wiping it off with a napkin.

Stiles shifted out of his chair and got down on one knee, noting the waiting staff all pausing. Their waitress had both hands over her mouth and her eyes were shiny with unshed tears. She was bouncing on the tips of her toes and looking fit to burst. She’d played her part well. Stiles hadn’t realized at all that Derek was about to pull the same stunt on him.

“Derek Hale,” Stiles smiled up at his beautiful boyfriend, “You… fuck… I’m crying too much.”

Derek snorted and Stiles sobbed and rubbed at his face while smiling up at Derek. The werewolf took his hand and smiled down at him tenderly.

“Marry me,” Derek ordered, plucking the ring from Stiles’ hand and sliding it onto his finger.

“Yeah, okay,” Stiles sobbed.

They hugged and kissed briefly while guests and staff applauded. Stiles slid Derek’s ring onto his finger as well and the werewolf nuzzled him lovingly.

“I brought you another album,” Stiles sniffled as he shifted back into his seat.

Stiles reached into his backpack beneath the table and pulled out the white album. Derek reached for it eagerly and began to page through it right away.

“Well,” Derek breathed, “Look at that? I’m still just as in love with you as I was before I _knew_ I was in love with you.”

“Yeah, and you still stalk me, you creeper,” Stiles laughed a bit, taking a sip of his milkshake, “I totally saw you two nights ago.”

Derek sniffed haughtily, “Not me.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles teased right back, “Who else would stalk my scrawny ass?”

“Anyone with eyes and ears,” Derek replied, closing the book and reaching for Stiles’ hand, “You’re brilliant and I adore you.”

“Love you too, sourwolf.”


End file.
